


Only One

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Samifer - Freeform, Secrets, Tumblr: fuckyeahsamlucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All secrets come with a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aegidoll](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aegidoll).



> **  
>  Prompt by aegidoll: Secret   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> _I met up with the king_  
>  He confessed his body was burning  
> I met up with the king  
> His body had begun to rot  
> And he said don't think less of me  
> I'm still the same man I used to be
> 
>  
> 
> _But no one believed him_
> 
>  
> 
> **I Met Up With A King by First Aid Kit**
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

Sam stifles a wet groan when he feels fingers digging into the small of his back, working out a knot the size of his fist. The Winchester is putty, body hunched forward with his forehead resting on a bandaged shoulder. A sterile lemon scent has been bombarding his nostrils for the past twenty-six minutes and he knows its the wrappings and balm underneath, but he can’t be troubled to move. Instead he remains comfortably situated in a cool lap whose thighs were warm due to Sam’s pressing bodyweight, a slight blush taking the usually pale skin captive. 

Sam’s hands don’t find the familiar bend and dip of the body he’s rested on this week again, pads of fingers usually pressing against flesh. Instead his hands remain obediently on his own legs, splayed across his thighs as he’ll occasionally shudder when the cold flesh reminds Sam of its temperature with its icy bite. But he can’t be bothered to move and if anything, guilt is keeping him more compliant than usual. He’ll moan louder this time, stay longer and even willingly share his own memories if it means smothering this heavy ache in his chest of what he’s done and what will continue to be done.

It’s a piss poor agreement and one that is fraying from the ends. It’s simply a matter of time before one or the other breaks it. It’s a semblance of a truce made where the Horsemen are kept at bay in return for one day out of the week to be spent in the Devil’s company. No tricks. Locations are picked and planned the week before. No harm can be done on the other in a mental or physical manner. It ties one of Lucifer’s arms behind his back but he would rather not go through the abrasive route by mentally ripping Sam in two to get his consent. This was a way for him to ease the tension and great some semblance of open dialogue between the two. 

Lucifer was physically pressed on time, Nick deteriorating as days trickled on by to weeks and than months. But he remained loyal to the agreement and there were those moments when both parties would briefly forget of the circumstances they were in, hands sliding across the other. They became more often and something the fallen archangel quietly looked forward to. Lucifer can recall that exact moment half a month ago, where he willingly caved in and spoke a tad more personally on regards to his family, when a mouth was suddenly pressed against his. It was foreign and strange to the Devil but it felt like a breakthrough, and he cared so little of the fact this was a _human_ act. If it meant both parties were content and engaged with the other, Lucifer would indulge Sam in all he wanted of it. He would hold off his plans longer. Just for him.

It made the blond possessive and hopeful. Any day Sam would finally give him what he has been waiting for and the days only made Lucifer acutely focused on the Winchester in a manner that gave his Grace warmth. Surprising even the archangel himself. He would catch himself staring at the brunette with a mixture of fondness and pride on the way he squints at the computer screen when he’s researching to his attempts to learn Enochian. That archangel thinks he likes Sam’s inquisitive nature the most.

But there were problems that the Morningstar was finding rather difficult to ignore as time continued to pass, one that did not revolve around his deteriorating vessel this time but instead his true one.

Turning his head to nose at the Winchester’s neck, the scent of melted caramel and spice was soaked in Sam’s pores, something rather flirtatious about the combination altogether. Brows knit together as he noses even further, Sam’s head forced to move so the archangel can burrow himself into the crook of his neck. The Winchester gives a soft chuckle, tickled with the stubble on Lucifer’s jaw that ran across the underside of his jaw.

It was almost something akin to irony in the actions of his one true vessel, one that had a way of exasperating the Morningstar at the parallels shared between them. Both were rebellious of the cookie cutter plans laid out and destiny, deciding that they would stubbornly stay in the path they saw as fitting. It’s admirable, Lucifer strongly believes, and he has yet to stray from his ideas that first came to be in Heaven. But Sam was straying from what was planned for him: saying ‘yes’ to the Devil. Instead he shuffles away and finds distractions from whatever magnetism and pull the both of them held for the other. Sometimes these distractions were sticky sweet with a crass mouth slapped on. 

Lucifer can smell his brother on every patch of skin and this time it feels marking and permanent, his irritation forming into bubbling anger.

The blond failed to find the hype in whatever attraction was occurring, because his sibling was foul. He traded family for skimpy lingerie and clogged arteries. The Messenger took a coward’s way out and was living the coward’s life, running away from responsibility and conflict. The archangel supposed that Sam could relate with his abrupt leave from the hunting life to check himself into domesticity, living a false life. The dilemma was that Lucifer would not think poorly of Sam Winchester. He could pity his genetics, decisions, upbringing and whatnot, but he could not look at the entirety of Sam and think what a rotten and pathetic mess. He can think poorly of Gabriel, though.

Sam was the calculated and planned occurrence that has been set into motion the minute that Eve took a bite of that forbidden fruit. One bite set into motion an alignment of lives and actions that led to one being who was carved and crafted for him. To wait for eons and turns of the planet to finally see what the entirety of time and space has nurtured for him only made Sam all the more important and special in his life. It was something that Sam did not share with him nor appreciate, leaving them both with rather different views of the relationship they have with one another. 

It couldn’t be any clearer than it was at this moment. 

“Sam,” Lucifer pulls away from the Winchester’s neck, moving his head so he can catch the brunette’s gaze, “Why are you here?” 

Eyes of a current earthy green narrow slightly in confusion, head cocked to the right, lips pulling into a thin-lipped smile in a show that there must be some sort of humor or joke occurring. “I’m...well, we meet up every Friday. Today just happens to be Friday,” Sam replies with a brief chuckle, but his hands close into fists on his thighs. Lucifer remains calm, moving his own hands back so they’re settled on the bed, sighing with quiet irritation. 

“What are you doing, Sam?” Lucifer simply replies, watching the Winchester’s face twist and mouth open to question him but Lucifer cuts in, “You reek of him. I’m afraid you can’t rinse this one off.” Words are becoming clipped and tongue enunciating the words with a cold and sterile demeanor. Sam is slipping off of him like he’s been bit, retreating a few steps where his attire laid in a messy pile. His expression turns on to the defensive and Lucifer cannot fully understand the collage of passing emotions within himself but he does pinpoint and understand betrayal. He held trust in Sam. Even though he was aware that his wayward sibling was frolicking with the Winchesters, he would have never imagined... 

Sam stays still and quiet, because every word that wants to come out and defend himself sounds overbearingly callous. It doesn’t help that he’s frozen in surprise and humiliation at being caught like this, words dry in his mouth, giving an imploring look to the blond. 

“Sam, I would never lie to you,” something that the Devil has been reiterating on nearly a daily basis, as if somehow he if he says it enough times it will finally sink in. “Yet, you do to me.” His fingers move to touch his chest, wrapped in gauze and bandaged tightly, a testament of his patience. “I don’t understand... Were you planning on humoring me as Nick rots before your eyes?” 

That one makes Sam flinch, guilt apparent in his gaze as his own eyes fall to the bandages. Shaking his head immediately, he gives a horrified, “No, that’s not it.” It simply felt his trust has been misused and he could explain that to Sam. Could vividly explain how this was, by far, the theme with those he begins to show care for. But he doesn’t because Sam doesn’t get the luxury of his innermost thoughts anymore and he can feel that anger twist into cold acceptance. 

His vessel is rotting from the core like an apple, the skin peeling back to show ruby red and what is not peeled shows signs of bruising. He’s an apple dropped too many times and the appeal of eating the fruit is long gone, something that the blond is understanding at this moment. This rotting and dying self was not remotely attractive to the Winchester, it seems, and that is something that sits so strangely with the Morningstar. For now only those blue eyes remain transcendent and bright, Grace more apparent in his pupils as if it was attempting to burst out. He waited patiently and tiredly for Sam to give himself over, but instead he can only be taunted and dangled of his future vessel’s vitality and potential through openmouthed kisses and greedy fingers. Selfishly he indulges and there is a cost, the cost being to feel this secret, idly wondering what spots he kissed that his sibling has also laid his lips on. Sam’s his. It’s a fact. There is nothing up for discussion on this matter but here he is feeling his possession stolen from him. 

The skin on his knuckles is dry and taut and when his fingers curl into a tight fist, he can feel the dry skin break. Slowly they uncurl as does a smile on Lucifer’s face, looking serene in his bandaged frame. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m not upset,” he reassures warmly, and Sam has the sinking impression that this deal just broke. Panic grips his features, taking a step forward as he watches the smiling Lucifer dress himself with ease. 

“Lucifer, what we have is... It is nice, and I haven’t forgotten that you’re postponing plans for me. I’m grateful for that. It...makes me happy,” Sam explains diplomatically and hurriedly, Lucifer feeling his features soften slightly at his words. “But Gabriel makes me happy, too,” Sam includes and there’s a stillness in the archangel before he’s licking his lips, folding his arms in front of his chest. The Winchester decides that he best be honest, hoping that if he explains that his happiness correlates with these variables that Lucifer will take this into consideration, perhaps make an exception.

“You can’t have both, Sam.” 

“But I do have both.” 

Lucifer stares unblinkingly at Sam before vanishing in the blink of an eye, leaving the Winchester to hurriedly scramble for his cellphone to call Dean. Sam goes over the conversation just had through his head, scowling at himself for the words said and those left unsaid, miserable over this interaction, waiting for Dean to pick up.

Sam feels nauseous when he can’t pretend to be surprised when Gabriel ends up gutted on the floor in Elysian Fields Motel the following week.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


End file.
